Write me of hope and love, and hearts that endured.
My friends are my estate.
It perished with beautiful reluctance, like an evening star.
You ask of my companions. Hills, sir, and the sundown, and a dog as large as myself.
They say that 'home is where the heart is.' I think it is where the house is, and the adjacent buildings.
How dreary - to be - somebody! How public - like a frog - to tell your name - the livelong June - to an admiring bog!